


Broken Memories

by skargasm



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, LJ Prompt, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-15 23:31:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1323340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skargasm/pseuds/skargasm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was nothing there for him but broken memories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Memories

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Naturalized](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naturalized/gifts).



The fireplace had been a dark, burnished mahogany. They didn’t often actually light a fire—being werewolves, they tended to run hot and the human members of the family/pack were cuddled and held, squished in puppy piles so that they didn’t suffer from the cold. 

He remembered the small array of photographs and nick nacks that had been on the mantle. He couldn’t remember all of the photos, but a few stood out in his memory. There had been a photograph of his mother and father taken on their 17th wedding anniversary—dressed up for dinner at a fancy restaurant, the love they shared shining brightly from the image. There was his junior prom photograph to which he had taken his cousin Shayla as his date because he was too shy and socially inept to ask any of the gaggle of girls from his class—they were prone to staring at him and giggling and it made him feel even more awkward. There was a photograph of Laura at her senior prom, looking scarily mature and almost sophisticated next to the gangly teenage boy who had managed to pluck up the courage to ask her. There was a family photo taken by a friend—full of grinning, happy faces. Even Peter. 

He’d hated that photograph of himself—had objected strenuously when his mother had insisted on putting it up for everyone to see. He had looked gawky and awkward, all heavy eyebrows, slightly crooked teeth and too bouffant hair. His mother had simply brushed back his heavy bangs and kissed him on the forehead, telling him he was beautiful. He’d brushed off the kiss, been embarrassed by the compliment and flounced out of the room. But the memory of how she had looked at him, the sincerity in her voice when she told him he was beautiful—those were the memories that helped him sleep. 

The nick nacks were just trinkets from family trips: a stupid puzzle box from the gift shop from when they went camping; small tokens of respect from other werewolf packs that they had visited; even a miniature Eiffel Tower from a huge family trip to Paris when he was fourteen. Before everything had fallen apart. Before he had let his hormones and his teenage horniness lead him into listening to a beautiful, conniving, murderous bitch who took his innocence, then destroyed his family. 

None of that was left anymore. The mahogany surround was a blackened mess; the mirror that was above the fireplace was dull with age and dirt, cracked in several places. The nick nacks were charred, unrecognisable lumps, some of which were stuck to the mantle. The photographs hadn’t survived the blaze unscathed, in some cases only the misshapen frames to show where the photographs had been.

The picture of his mother and father was torn and burnt around the edges and it fit snugly in his wallet once it was folded in half a few times. There was nothing else here for him—not in this room with its faint scent of decay. Not in what had once been a beautiful family home.

With a heavy sigh, Derek crossed to the front door and took one final look around to be sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. The condemned building notification pinned to the door fluttered in the slight breeze as he crossed the threshold, slammed the door shut and then made his way to the Camaro. He climbed into the car, quickly getting comfortable and putting the key into the ignition before starting the car. The roar of the engine was loud in the quiet of the forest as he efficiently manoeuvred the car around until he was facing away from the house and heading in the right direction for the main road. 

He didn’t look back—why would he? There was nothing to look back for.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> For QueenofallShips. Apologies - it wasn't the piece of fluff that I had originally planned but I owed you something, so here's a little piece featuring Derek.


End file.
